


Fake Plastic Love

by nononothissucks (drainyou)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Boot Kissing, Boot Worship, Boot slave, Degradation, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Other, boot fetish, bootlicking, no sex but it is kinky so read at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 14:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18527092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drainyou/pseuds/nononothissucks
Summary: A Mettaton x reader fic in which you agree to clean his boots for him, but little do you know...





	Fake Plastic Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a reader insert fic. It is very kinky and weird. Enjoy!

You shudder for a moment as you approach the darkened room, not knowing what was to come next. You pushed the door, entering into the black, eyeing the dim steel walls.

 

 

“…So, it seems that you’ve finally arrived.” A deep, unique, almost seductive-sounding voice calls out.

 

Approaching you see him- the robot from before, sitting back on a large chair, head resting against his balled-up fist, looking as imposing as before, if not more so. You shudder, hoping that there wouldn’t be a fight.

As if by magic, he responds , seemingly, to your own thoughts, an eyebrow raised.

 

“Now now, darling, I don’t wish to fight you. In fact, I have something to _ask_ of you…”

You’ve already zoned out, eyes travelling to his tall, heeled pink boots. They really did complement his tall, intimidating figure. They made him look hot. Well, he was hot.

Okay. His boots were hot as well.

…

“It is not polite to ignore someone when they are addressing you, you know.”

You look up.

 

“As I said before, I have a _favour_ I’d like to ask of you.” He winks seductively.

You shudder in anticipation. That is not a normal reaction, you think, mentally punishing yourself.

“I see that you’ve taken a liking to me, and to my boots, as well, it seems. I wonder why you are staring at them so much, is what I’m asking myself.”

You try to stammer out an answer, already feeling a chill overcome you. He cuts you off.

“There’s no need to explain yourself. I think I already know. Anyways, back to that little favour I asked.” -He paused, tilting his head, a condescending smile on his face. “You see, I haven’t been with my staff in a few days, you know, with me having to defeat you and what not.”

He raised his leg, sticking his foot out.

“-And my boots have gotten somewhat dirty, _you know_. I am much more used to being indoors, and with the outdoors being so dirty, of course I would need to have my boots cleaned.”

 

Your eyes travel from his proud face to his shiny fluorescent boots. They _were_ quite dirty, with a few scuffs and some mud and what not on them. You wet your dry lips. All sense of time seems lost.

He continues- “Of course, what I’m asking is if you’d be able to clean them for me. I’m sure it would not be difficult for you, although it definitely would not be for _me_ , but alas, I suppose I am just too busy to do such a thing. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing this.”

 

You nod. It was just a favour. It seemed like an great exchange, considering the fact that he was offering to not kill and/or main you in exchange for having his boots cleaned.

 

“Thank you, darling. Now, if you would just come over here.”

You approach him, and he orders you to get on the ground. You do so, albeit confused.

You ask him why you have to do such a thing. He laughs. And then proceeds to give you the douchiest, most condescending smirk of all time.

 

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart _. Of course_ when you agreed to this, you _knew_ that you would be cleaning my dirty boots with your _tongue_ , right?”

“I didn-“ You don’t have the time to interject- he cuts you off just a little too eagerly.

“Well, anyways, a deal is a deal, so you’d better get to work, silly.” He grins sadistically.

You shudder. _Not with anticipation._ You swear. It’s not fair. But you’re on the ground, and you would rather be doing this than fighting, and, well, the boots are already there anyways, so you might as well do it. It’s nothing, you swear. You lean in, unsure, mouth still closed. You eye the boot once more, lost in thought.

 

“You know, sweetheart, one cannot lick something if their mouth is closed.”

Nervously, you stick your tongue out, just barely touching the surface. You pull it back in.

“While your fear and confusion is very cute, it will take much more than that to clean these boots. Now get to work.”

 

He nudges your head with his left foot, urging you further. You lean back in and try to lick. It’s nerve-wracking. You’re shaking with something- not exactly anticipation, but not exactly fear, either. Humiliation is more like it. You lick the surface of the boot once more, more like a half-tongue lick. You aren’t sure.

 

“I _know_ that you like this.”

 

You’re sweaty and blushing now. Even more than before.

You aren’t sure how, but it almost feels as if he is pulling your thoughts straight out of your head. You lower your face in shame, mortified to admit to the fact that this is starting to almost _arouse you._ _What kind of freak am I,_ you think, _to be aroused by being forced to lick someone’s filthy boots._ You can’t help it anymore. You start licking the shiny, pleather surface of Mettaton’s boot again, this time with feeling. You look up briefly, embarrassed out of your mind, to see him smiling at you, brows furrowed callously.

 

“That’s more like it. I’m sure you really do like this, deep down. I know what it looks like when someone is aroused, and I clearly saw you eyeing me up before. But you were really staring at my boots more than anything. I guess I must have awoken some kind of sick fetish in you. So I suppose you aught to be thankful for that.”

 

You keep licking, trying desperately to please his whims. Okay, you loved it- God you loved it. The feeling was all too much to bear. You were absolutely enthralled. His heavy, high-heeled pink boots held your every attention. You immersed yourself in the thought- just being forced to lick his filthy, dirty, soiled boots until they were almost as clean as a brand new pair- made you more fucking aroused than anything. Ever. The pink right boot was shiny, slick with saliva. Your own saliva. You did this. It felt cold against your tongue, and it was starting to come clean. You kissed and licked at his boot, desperate for more of this. Of something. The thick, heavy feeling of shame was amazing. You felt like such a filthy fucking boot-licking slut, but God was it perfect. You were literally a bootlicker. It was just too damn hot.

He stepped on the back of your head with his other foot, gently. “Now that’s a good slave, darling. I can tell how much you’re having fun. What a good little job you’re doing.” He pressed a little more against the back of your head, urging you more. You were desperate to please.

 

You kept licking and tonguing the boot, now in a circular motion, trying to the best of your ability. But you couldn’t help drooling. It was just that arousing. The feeling of your hot tongue against the cold pink pleather was wonderful. You kissed it even more, pretty much outright worshiping his heeled boot at this point.

It was just so tantalizing. You felt almost hypnotized by it all.

You wished he’d step on you again, or shove the heel in your mouth, or maybe kick you a little or spit on you or tease you more, or just _something._ Something mean. You craved it now, more than anything. The anticipation was driving you insane.

 

“Please, sweetie, I know that this is a lot for you and you must be overcome with emotion- but please do not drool on these boots. Okay?” He tilted his head and did _that smile_ again. You whimpered in shame, not even realizing the fact that you were drooling from pure desire.

 

“Now, be a doll and clean that mess up, okay?”

 

As you lapped up your own saliva, you couldn’t help but unconsciously move your hand lower, trying to get it into your pants. He nudged your arm with the other leg, and pushed your hand away. He used the same foot to lift your chin, ever so gently.

 

“My, my, my, how _naughty._ You really love this filth, don’t you, you little perv? Your pathetic little moans and whimpers are just so cute.” You let out another noise.

“I know, I know. You love it. You’re in love with me. I know. And you’re in love with my boots. That’s okay, too. Just try to keep up, alright?”

 

Just the sound of his voice was too much for you, that snobby voice absolutely thick with humiliation and pure judgement. …You loved it.

He gave a bestial smile. “You’re being so wanton, what with your funny little noises and all. I suppose I’ll have to silence you somehow.” You opened your mouth. He put the tip of the boot inside, pushing against your tongue. You moaned from sheer arousal, moving your tongue against the bottom as much as you possibly could. He ground the boot into your mouth, against your tongue, really letting you taste the fake plastic material and dirt. It only made you crazy for more. You started drooling again.

"You are slobbering again, sweetheart."

You couldn't help it.

Mettaton took notice of your shamelessness. You must have been enjoying this more than he was. Or maybe he was just as into it as you were.

 

“Since you’re doing _such_ a good job,I guess I'll just have to reward you for your hard work."

You looked up for  a brief moment. What could he possibly have in mind?

"Of course, since I'm being so  _nice_ to you, I'd be very happy if you were to thank me..." 

"Thank you... Mettaton... sir..." You kissed his boot again. It was enthralling.

"Hm? For what?"

"For... uhm..." you groaned a little, cowering.

"Speak up, would you? I cannot read minds."

"Thank you... for letting me lick your boots sir..."

"You're very welcome, honey. And do you  _like_ licking boots? Like a filthy slave?"

You whimper again. "...yes."

"Do you love it?" He grins maliciously.

"Mmmn... yes.. I love licking and worshipping your boots like a slave."

You've started and cannot possibly be stopped. The atmosphere was overpowering.

"Would you like that? Would you like to be  _my own_ personal boot slave?"

"Yes."

"Then say it. Tell me how badly you want for this. Beg for it." He raised an eyebrow, looking down upon you.

You could cry. It was too much. 

"Please, please let me be your slave. Please let me lick and grovel at your boots like the filthy doormat that I am."

"Hmmm... I'm not entirely convinced yet. Try harder. Before I get bored, please." He responded with a disgusted, tired expression.

"Please, Mettaton, please let me be your bootlicking slave to do as you please, as often and as much as you wish. Please allow me to be beneath you, to step on and degrade... please let me be below you to serve your every whim and desire."

He eyed you with a half-bored interest.

"Oh dear. I guess I'll just have to let you do that. I mean, I don't really see why not." he sighed.

"...But do remember, a slave's work is never done. You  _will_ be doing this in public if I so feel like asking it of you. Regardless of whomever is watching. Do you understand, slave?"

You nod.

You could die happily now. You looked at him needily, awaiting orders. He stepped his left boot on your head playfully. You hung on his every word.

He looked so good. So sexy. So mean. How could you possibly resist?

"And now, for your reward, since youve been so very well behaved...."

You try to silence yourself. He flashed a smug, filthy, conceited smile.

“...I’ll reward you by letting you lick my other boot, that is. Now get to work.”

Or course, you very much obliged…

Mettaton winked,

"After all, a slave's work is never done." 

 


End file.
